I AM Megan Chiappetta, sixteen years old I am determined, my words are bold My hands are always freezing, But my temper could burn holes.
There’s more to me than meets the eye, Although I’d never show it, my eyes do cry.
I move to the beat of my own drum I can sing without music, dance without a beat I hate having shoes on my size six feet.
Secret secrets don’t make friends, And I’ll protect mine till the very end.
Hugs are my favorite, big- not small If it was possible, I’d take care of us all. Sometimes I bite off more than I can chew, I’m a problem solver; it’s what I like to do, And if you ever need me, I’ll help with yours too.
The ocean is my safe place, my home away from home, I love the way the waves hit, spraying me with foam.
My hands soar through the air with every point I make, I cherish my friends and family, and every breath I take.
On occasion I find my mouth is connected directly through my brain, When you cook a cookie in the microwave, it goes directly down the drain.
If I want really want something, I never fear the fight. Meet me at the football game, every Friday night. Snapping all my pictures, in plain Jane black and white.
I may work hard, but I play harder still. My pappy is my hero, make him proud I will.
Wrapped in my boyfriend’s hoodie, content as can be. Wrestling in the living room, out-numbered one to three.
I waitress at Athen’s, but I’m still getting the feel. I love sitting down to a delicious home cooked meal.
The trees are so pretty, as we approach fall. Which means it’s about time for some Monday night football.
I may live in America, the land of the free. But I also carry parts of Poland and Italy with me.
I am a Degenerate… I am a degenerate, Fourth generation Italian- American. Off the boat from Italy; We’ve been here for over a century.
Put downfrom the get go, Telling us to go home. Sent us to thebottomof the stack; If they could they’d send us back.
Shovedmy people into mills; Trying to stifle the “Italian Spills”. Dark hair,dark eyes, dark skin; Defying the perfect race: Aryan.
Considered “illegitimate” to the “perfect, elite” Expecting us to kneel andworshipat their feet. A disgrace to the “native eyes”, They beat us down, ignored our cries.
Either sterilized or committed on the spot, It didn’t matter if we were“defective”or not. I am a “degenerate”…But who’s not?
Half Castes their faces contorted with a look of disgust the color of my skin they cannot trust
. but it wasn't I who set their lives array, I didn't take them from their parents; take them far, far away
In their minds I'm just another white Devil; a disturbance to their peace; a Mr. Neville
I never asked them to talk like me, look like me, worship like me forced assimilation isn't for me.
they look at me strangely, wide eyes full of fear: "thirty years from now, will be culture be here?"
they're the "lost generation", forced into assimilation but in the eyes of my people, they're just another abomination.
I AM
Megan Chiappetta, sixteen years old
I am determined, my words are bold
My hands are always freezing,
But my temper could burn holes.
There’s more to me than meets the eye,
Although I’d never show it, my eyes do cry.
I move to the beat of my own drum
I can sing without music, dance without a beat
I hate having shoes on my size six feet.
Secret secrets don’t make friends,
And I’ll protect mine till the very end.
Hugs are my favorite, big- not small
If it was possible, I’d take care of us all.
Sometimes I bite off more than I can chew,
I’m a problem solver; it’s what I like to do,
And if you ever need me, I’ll help with yours too.
The ocean is my safe place, my home away from home,
I love the way the waves hit, spraying me with foam.
My hands soar through the air with every point I make,
I cherish my friends and family, and every breath I take.
On occasion I find my mouth is connected directly through my brain,
When you cook a cookie in the microwave, it goes directly down the drain.
If I want really want something, I never fear the fight.
Meet me at the football game, every Friday night.
Snapping all my pictures, in plain Jane black and white.
I may work hard, but I play harder still.
My pappy is my hero, make him proud I will.
Wrapped in my boyfriend’s hoodie, content as can be.
Wrestling in the living room, out-numbered one to three.
I waitress at Athen’s, but I’m still getting the feel.
I love sitting down to a delicious home cooked meal.
The trees are so pretty, as we approach fall.
Which means it’s about time for some Monday night football.
I may live in America, the land of the free.
But I also carry parts of Poland and Italy with me.
I am a Degenerate…
I am a degenerate,
Fourth generation Italian- American.
Off the boat from Italy;
We’ve been here for over a century.
Put down from the get go,
Telling us to go home.
Sent us to the bottom of the stack;
If they could they’d send us back.
Shoved my people into mills;
Trying to stifle the “Italian Spills”.
Dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin;
Defying the perfect race: Aryan.
Considered “illegitimate” to the “perfect, elite”
Expecting us to kneel and worship at their feet.
A disgrace to the “native eyes”,
They beat us down, ignored our cries.
Either sterilized or committed on the spot,
It didn’t matter if we were “defective” or not.
I am a “degenerate”… But who’s not?
Half Castes
their faces contorted with a look of disgust
the color of my skin they cannot trust
.
but it wasn't I who set their lives array,
I didn't take them from their parents;
take them far, far away
In their minds I'm just another white Devil;
a disturbance to their peace; a Mr. Neville
I never asked them to talk like me,
look like me, worship like me
forced assimilation isn't for me.
they look at me strangely, wide eyes full of fear:
"thirty years from now, will be culture be here?"
they're the "lost generation", forced into assimilation
but in the eyes of my people, they're just another abomination.